100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full?-Chapter 404 - Move

Lucien did not leave for the Liberators’ branch immediately.

Cassian was outside, speaking with Anvil-Horn. Kaia had already gone back to the forges.

Lucien took the quiet window and turned inward.

He stepped into his divine energy core.

The inner world greeted him with motion that had finally returned to normal.

The ancient beasts stalked the training lanes like old generals who had grown bored of war and decided to raise soldiers instead.

The Lithrens drilled in coordinated lines. Their bodies hardened with every cycle and their discipline tightened into something that would survive the next calamity.

Little by little, his forces were becoming real.

Lucien blinked and appeared near Morveth.

"Uncle," Lucien said, "let the others keep training the monsters. You should start guiding the ones living within you."

Morveth’s eyes turned toward him.

Lucien continued.

"You can use the facilities I built. It can help them reach the peak of Metamorphosis Realm quickly."

A rare thing happened.

Morveth smiled.

"That would help," Morveth rumbled. "As they grow stronger, I grow stronger. Their conviction becomes my bone."

Lucien nodded once.

Then he left Morveth with his new assignment, and watched the training lanes expand in his mind like a city planning itself.

He blinked again and appeared near the farms.

Aerolith was there.

She hovered low over the soil with the solemn focus of someone who had found a sacred duty and decided to treat it like a game.

Her hands moved quickly, pressing seeds down, patting earth, then coaxing sprouts up with careless ease.

Her Law of Continuance surged.

Lucien did not interrupt.

He simply watched.

Up close, he saw the change.

Aerolith’s aura carried faint traces of the special crops. The attributes from them clung to her now.

It explained her bright mood.

Aerolith noticed him and paused mid-plant, cheeks slightly puffed as if caught.

Lucien raised one finger.

"Do not eat everything."

Aerolith swallowed quickly, then nodded with intense sincerity.

"I regrow," she said as if presenting proof of innocence. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

Lucien let a faint smile touch his mouth.

"Good. Continue."

Aerolith brightened and went back to work immediately, humming as she planted with exaggerated responsibility.

Lucien left her to it.

He did not have time to babysit crops. Having a tiny calamity happily managing agriculture was, oddly, convenient.

•••

He opened his Inventory and reviewed the drops from the ambushers Morveth had killed earlier.

His gaze stilled.

***

DROPS ACQUIRED

Rare

• Burrow-Sunder Hook — A compact digging implement inscribed with shallow earth clauses. Efficient for tunneling through loose stone without triggering common ward-lines.

• Ashleaf Cigarette Pack — A bundle of pale, dried leaves rolled in thin black paper. When burned, it steadies the mind and reduces fear-response for a short period.

• Wound-Salt Pouch — A granular mineral mix that stanches bleeding and dulls pain when pressed into cuts. Ineffective against conceptual injuries.

Epic

• Groundlistening Bead — A small bead that amplifies vibration-reading when held against earth or stone. Useful for detecting movement underground without projecting aura.

• Bitterglass Wine, Half-Moon Vintage — A dark bottle sealed with a wax rune. When consumed in small amounts, it relaxes internal circulation and smooths aura turbulence, helping recovery after strain.

Legendary

• Hollow-Heat Lantern — A lantern that emits cold illumination with no thermal output, designed for stealth movement and ward navigation. Its light does not register as heat to many sensing arrays.

• Quiet Lung Reagent — A sealed vial that temporarily reduces the user’s aura "breath," making them harder to sense.

***

Lucien’s eyes lingered on the cigarette pack and wine bottle.

He could not help his curiosity.

"What race drops cigarettes and wines," he murmured.

A cigarette.

A bottle of wine.

Lucien stared at them for a long breath, then let out a quiet exhale that sounded like nostalgia trying to sneak past his composure.

He had never been a smoker.

But a good wine, on certain nights, was something he had craved in his older life.

Lucien closed the list and filed the drops away.

•••

Lucien invoked Split Body.

Pea-sized versions of him formed in a disciplined cluster.

Lucien split his thoughts again, assigning each fragment a clean task. Each split body carried a different focus, like lenses angled toward the same hidden star.

He released them.

They rose and flew outward, slipping out of the Starforge barrier.

They moved with remarkable speed despite their size.

Hours later, they reached their destination.

Lucien’s perception flickered as their shared senses layered on top of his own.

Far above, somewhere in the open sky where ordinary sight saw only wind, the Liberator woman moved.

She drifted through the air with the patience of someone who knew the cost of a single mistake.

Lucien watched her through the split bodies.

He monitored.

Lucien’s mouth faintly curved.

He still had not found a way to claim her.

But his split bodies remained in place, monitoring quietly. If she were ever in danger, he could teleport instantly.

•••

Later that day, Anvil-Horn came to find him.

Anvil-Horn did not waste time.

"My people have decided," he said.

Lucien’s eyes sharpened.

"Starforge will go with you."

For a breath, Lucien said nothing.

Then he nodded once, slow.

It was not surprise he felt. It was the weight of what it meant.

Anvil-Horn continued.

"They are enthusiastic. Some called it a second life. Some said they will spend it repaying what you did."

Lucien answered plainly.

"They will not regret it."

He looked toward the forges, toward the rebuilding halls, toward the workers who had refused to die even when fate tried to make a lesson of them.

"I will raise Starforge beyond what it was," Lucien said. "Through resources and through time they are allowed to have."

Anvil-Horn’s expression softened.

"I believe you," he rumbled.

Then his eyes glinted with mischief.

"I also hope you raise your relationship with my daughter."

Lucien’s gaze went flat.

He pivoted smoothly, as if he had never heard the sentence.

"Tomorrow," Lucien said, "we leave at first light."

Anvil-Horn’s laughter followed him like a hammer striking a bell.

•••

The next day came clean and bright.

Starforge gathered n order.

Smiths, apprentices, elders, survivors. Children held close. Caskets held with respect.

The entire faction stood within the barrier like a fortress preparing to become mobile.

Kaia was there. Lilith was there too, expression composed.

Cassian arrived as well.

He looked over the gathered people, then at Lucien.

"You are bringing all of them?" Cassian said, as if confirming a number that should not be possible.

Lucien nodded.

He turned to Anvil-Horn.

The Solhorn gave a single nod.

That was the signal.

He then raised a hand.

His domain unfolded.

The world accepted Lucien’s claim over a pocket of reality and let him carry it.

It enveloped the entirety of Starforge.

This time, the members did not even flinch.

And then—

Starforge vanished as a clean relocation.

One moment, a crowd.

The next moment, absence.

Cassian stood outside the effect.

Intentionally excluded.

Lucien had done that on purpose.

Cassian stared at the empty space where thousands had been. His composure cracked for the first time since he arrived.

His mouth parted slightly.

A rare expression from him.

Lucien looked at him.

"That is how I protect them," Lucien said.

Cassian’s eyes lifted slowly.

For a moment, he did not speak.

Then he exhaled.

Understanding.

"...I see," Cassian said, and the words carried new weight. "Then the Liberators’ estimate was wrong."

Lucien’s mouth curved faintly at that.

"Let’s go," Lucien said.

Cassian nodded once.

Lucien summoned his Voidcraft.

They stepped inside.

Cassian’s confidence was different now.

Because he had just seen, with his own eyes, that Lucien could carry an entire faction the way others carried a sword.

And that meant the East Branch would not be receiving a guest.

It would be receiving a force.

Far from them, unseen by ordinary eyes, Lucien’s split bodies continued to circle the air.

Because even as he traveled to allies, his mind was already reaching for the next prize.